


oh, there is thunder in our hearts

by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Castiel Returns (Supernatural), Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, finale ? i dont know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo/pseuds/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo
Summary: cas returns from the empty when dean is on a hunt. on their drive home through the rain, dean struggles to put into words what he longs for. they figure it out.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 112





	oh, there is thunder in our hearts

**Author's Note:**

> thinking about how dean didn't talk for a year when he was four. thinking about how he can never seem to express his feelings even if he wants to. thinking about longing for something, someone, and still not being able to think about it. thinking.
> 
> jack gives up his god-powers and becomes a normal kid. dean doesn't die. cas comes back from the empty.
> 
> title from kate bush's Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

The windshield wipers are a regular _whip-whip-whip_ across the window.

It's been raining for days now, and Dean would be less annoyed by it if he hadn't just had to dig up a grave in the pouring rain and salt-and-burn it with twice as much lighter fluid as usual to keep the water from extinguishing the flames. He'd be less annoyed by it if he weren't still soaked to the bone, the dry clothes he changed into only helping so much to stop him from feeling like his body is filled to the brim with longing, like he is drowning in it. He'd be less annoyed if there wasn't a voice in his head screaming about -

He shakes his head and turns up the music as if that'll help, as if that has ever helped quiet the thoughts in his head running wild.

His phone vibrates and a quick glance at the screen tells him it's a text from Sam, announcing that he and Eileen are back at the bunker after a hunt and that they picked up Jack at Jody's on their way home. He returns his eyes to the road.

The radio keeps playing, Kate Bush singing about _making a deal with god. Dean considers changing the station, then drops his hand again._

 _Whip-whip-whip_ , the wipers go, and something about the rhythm of the rain and the soft drum beat from the speakers and the constant whirring of his brain leads to his eyes straying from the road and flicking over to the passenger seat even though he promised himself they wouldn't.

His chest feels tighter at the sight of Cas slumped against the window, a t-shirt scrunched up under his cheek as a makeshift pillow. His trenchcoat and suit jacket were drenched earlier, bunched up now in the backseat with all of Dean's wet clothes. Instead, he pulled one of Dean's flannels out of his duffel, wrapped it tight around his torso and promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat before Dean even finished changing. Dean doesn't know what it is about his soft hair flopping down on his forehead, his shoulders curling inward, his breath fogging up the glass, but something about the picture in front of him makes him smile.

(Okay, he knows _exactly_ what it is. He's dealing with it. If only it weren't so hard to find words to describe the tightness in his chest, the itch in his fingertips to reach out to brush Cas' hair out of his eyes, the way every cell in his body screams when he tears his gaze from Cas' soft form and looks back out on the road.)

He counts the _whip-whip-whip_ s in his head, sings along to the radio under his breath, taps along to the beat with his fingers against the steering wheel. Tries - and fails - to recount the last episode of Dr. Sexy he saw by memory, tries - and fails - to think about what he could cook for dinner this week, tries - and fails -

Whatever train of thought he takes up, he always ends at the same destination; Cas in the passenger seat of his car; Cas, who only just got back from the Empty a couple of days before, appearing in Dean's motel room without any announcement and only the explanation that Jack had apparently made a deal before he gave up his powers to be a normal kid, making the Empty quiet if it would let Cas go; Cas, who reappeared two months after the Empty took him because time works differently for a cosmic entity.

Cas, who had fallen into Dean's arms like he belonged there. Cas, who now has a finite, fickle supply of grace, who will be completely human once he used it all up, who looks exhausted. Cas in the passenger seat of his car. Cas.

Cas stirs and it's almost as if he could hear Dean's prayers. (Because what else is Dean doing these days if not praying, always praying to Cas, longing settling back into his bones like it always does when finds out that Cas isn't dead anymore, replacing his overwhelming despair with something that almost hurts more.)

Cas yawns, rolls his shoulders, blinks at Dean.

Dean turns his eyes back to the road. Clears his throat.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he says, voice gruff to his ears.

"Where are we?" Cas asks, and Dean knows he is squinting out at the road without having to look at him. He looks, anyway, then looks away again, clenching his jaw.

"About five hours to go. Thought I'd drive through, that way we get to sleep in a proper bed tonight."

"Drive through? Dean, it's -" Cas leans forward to squint at the digital clock in the dashboard. "It's one am already. Are you sure you're okay to drive that long?"

"I'm fine. I'll stop for some coffee soon."

They fall back into silence. Dean glances over to see Cas leaning against the window again, still using the same t-shirt as a pillow. (It's one of Dean's, just as the flannel is, which makes sense seeing as Cas returned from the Empty with nothing but the clothes on his back. Still, something in his stomach flutters at the idea of Cas using one of his shirts as a pillow and he thinks back to what Cas said right before he - He shakes his head. Now is not the time to think about that.)

Cas fiddles with the radio, hums when he finds a song that pleases him, turning the volume up. Stevie Nicks' voice fills the Impala, singing about _landslides_ and _getting older_. Cas hums along quietly.

The rain prattles onto the roof of the Impala. The wipers go _whip-whip-whip_.

After a while (Dean couldn't say if it was a few minutes or an hour), a sign announcing a gas station emerges from the night, glowing in bright neon colors through the rain.

When the station itself appears with its harsh lights, Dean slows down and pulls in next to a gas pump. He grabs his wallet, then turns over to Cas, looking at him properly this time. Cas looks back. Dean blinks.

"Want anything? Coffee, chocolate, ..." He trails off.

Cas musters him for a moment, then says, "coffee, please, with milk and two sugars." He pauses for a moment. "And a Snickers, please."

Dean grins. "You got it."

After filling up Baby's tank, he heads inside to use the restroom. He gets their coffees and Cas' Snickers and pays for the gas.

By the time he comes out, Cas is leaning against the car door, head raised up to the sky. The gas pump and the Impala are technically covered from the rain by the station's roof but the wind blows some drops on them, anyway. Cas' hair is tousled in a way that makes Dean long to thread his hands through it. (Not that he's not longing for that all the time, anyway. But with Cas looking like he looks now, the longing grows especially strong.)

"Alright, alright," he says when he is close to the car. "Get back in, we don't want you catching a cold on your first week back." He circles the car and gets in. Cas is already sitting back in his seat. Dean hands him his coffee and the Snickers and Cas smiles in thanks. Dean empties half of his cup in big gulps, then turns on the car and drives back onto the road.

(He doesn't think about how Cas' smile was way too soft to thank him for some sludge-like coffee and a candy bar, that he doesn't deserve that kind of smile.)

They keep driving in silence, their cups long empty, the rain pouring down with endless endurance.

(Dean's thoughts are still whizzing around his head at a hundred miles a minute. Cas is here, next to him, and the last thing he said to Dean before saving his life, _again_ , was that he - Dean can't even _think_ the words, everything tumbling around his head in dizzying chaos. He's here, and when the first thing he did when he came back was fall into Dean's arms, fitting himself against every curve and edge of Dean's body like a puzzle piece. Cas, who didn't say anything when Dean didn't mention their last conversation, who didn't say anything when Dean spent the next couple of days finishing off the hunt he was in the middle of, who didn't complain when Dean went out in the pouring rain to dig up the grave of the ghost that had been plaguing the small midwestern town.

Cas, who came back with a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder that shook Dean down to his core and a seemingly never-ending downpour. He's here, and he's okay, and Dean wants to say something so badly -)

Cas is fiddling with the radio again but there's mostly static, and Dean's head feels like static, and before he knows it, he's slapping Cas' hand away from the dials.

"You mind?"

He regrets it, instantly. Clenches his jaw, eyes fixed to the road even though he can feel Cas recoil next to him, curling back up into himself.

He runs a hand over his face.

"Sorry, I'm - I'm sorry, Cas." He glances over, tries a quirk of his lips. Cas is looking at him, and Dean knows that he knows that this is not about the radio, really, not at all. Cas smiles that soft smile of his again.

"It's fine," he says.

"It's not, though." Dean doesn't know where this sudden outburst came from. "It's not, because you saved me and I thought I lost you forever and now I can't even-"

His eyes are flicking back and forth between the road and Cas, now.

Cas looks at him, not saying anything. (It's a reminder of how well Cas knows him, knows exactly how hard it is for Dean to find the right words even normally, not to mention huge, life-altering situations like right now.)

"I can't even talk about it," Dean finishes. It's weak, he knows it, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to find the right words, to come up with something even close to what Cas said when he doesn't even dare to think about Cas' words.

Cas hums. "We've got time."

The Impala grows quiet again. _Whip-whip-whip_ go the windshield wipers. Cas props his head back against the window and closes his eyes.

Dean drives, and drives. Cas breathing evens out after a few minutes, and so does the beat of Dean's heart, back to a steady _thump-ba-thump_ that it wasn't, earlier.

After a while, Cas' left hand falls out of his lap against the gearshift. Dean reaches out on instinct, grabs Cas' wrist without thinking, and then suddenly all he can do is _think_ , because what does he do now, holding Cas' wrist in his hand, what does he _do -_

Cas ends his crisis before it even properly stars by moving just a bit, twisting his wrist upwards until his hand is firmly placed in Dean's.

(Just when Dean's heartbeat was somewhat normal, it goes into overdrive, again. What does he _do_ when Cas' hand is in his, how should he handle this -)

Instinctively, his fingers move sideways a bit and tangle with Cas' fingers. Cas sighs in his sleep and Dean doesn't know how he's not awake yet because Dean himself feels like he's bursting at the seams, eyes barely focused on the road anymore, only technically looking out of the window. Cas moves again, and Dean can't help looking at him, for just a second, and then he sees it - a quick blink, that soft smile again, and Dean realises that maybe, Cas isn't asleep, after all. Maybe, Cas feels like he is bursting, too.

The rain pours down and Dean drives and he is holding Cas' hand and something in his bones settles.

(Dean is holding Cas' hand and something in his bones settles.)

When they pull up to the bunker, the sky has brightened considerably. In the distance, the rain has stopped and the sun rising beyond the horizon is tinting the skyline pink. Dean stops the car outside, enjoying the sound of the remaining raindrops on the Impala's roof.

He pulls his hand out of Cas' hold, slowly, reluctantly. He places it on Cas' shoulder, instead, slowly rubbing in circles.

"Cas, hey," he murmurs. "We're here. We're home."

Cas blinks awake, then.

Neither of them leaves the car.

"I'm," Dean begins, then stops again. His eyes are fixed ahead to a random tree.

Cas stays silent.

"Cas, everything you said, before -" He can't say it, not yet, can't talk about losing Cas when he just got him back. "I'm not great with words," he says instead. "This won't be like what you said, but I just want you to know -"

He clenches his jaw, trying to find the words.

(He is already tearing up.)

"You need to know, Cas -" He glances over and sees that Cas is crying. He reaches out without thinking, his hand finding Cas' again.

( _Just say it,_ he tells himself _. Out with it. Let's go._ )

His grip on Cas' hand is probably tighter than comfortable but Cas doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything, just sits there, waiting,

(That's what does it, in the end. Cas sitting there, paitently waiting until Dean can say what has been building up in his chest for over a decade, now.)

"You have me, Cas. Of course you have me." The smile on Cas' face is brilliant, and Dean knows he's mirroring it. "And I love you, too."

Cas sniffs, wipes his cheeks but more tears keep falling. Dean scoots over on the bench, reaches out with the sleeve of his flannel, wiping Cas' tears, himself.

They're close now, and Cas is staring at him and the longing in his bones comes to a crescendo. Dean closes the distance and presses their lips together.

(Cas tastes of stale gas station coffee and the rain and crackling electricity. The longing in every cell of Dean's body quiets down for the moment. The rain outside stops, and neither of them notices.)

Eventually, Dean realises he's going to crash in about fifteen minutes, max, and they head inside. He holds Cas' hand as they enter the bunker, walk down the staircase, and suddenly he realises that he's bringing home a really, really good surprise. The grin that has been stuck on his face every second he hasn't been kissing Cas grows even wider.

"Hey everybody!" He calls out. "Look who I brought home!"

They enter the kitchen to find Sam already in his running clothes, Eileen bent over the table with a mug of coffee, Jack spread across two chairs with a bowl of cereal in his hands. Their heads turn and they freeze.

(Dean figures that they must make quite the pair - obviously exhausted but smiling like crazy, cheeks flushed, Cas still in Dean's flannel and their hands still tangled together. He kind of likes the thought of that.)

Jack gets up first, almost spilling his cereal to jump into Cas' arms, hugging him close. "It worked! I didn't know if..." He trails off and Dean realises that the nervous, unsettled energy he had been giving off these past months wasn't just from loosing his powers and from missing Cas but also because he didn't know if the deal he made with the Empty worked.

As soon as Jack lets go of Cas, Sam is there to replace him with his gangly arms. Dean, in turn, pulls Jack close. Jack sighs against his shoulder and Dean sways them for just a moment. "Thank you," he murmurs as he pulls away, pressing a kiss on Jack's head. Jack grins back at him.

Sam hugs Dean, then, and Eileen hugs Cas, and then Cas hugs Jack again, and it's only when Cas stumbles and Dean catches him with an arm around his waist that Dean cuts the reunion short.

"Alright," he says. "I'm going to crash. We can catch up later. Cas, you coming?"

"Goodnight, everybody," Cas says in lieu of a response and then follows Dean's lead out of the room.

(Dean sees Sam grinning widely, nudging Eileen and pointing at his hand on Cas' waist. He doesn't care.)

They stumble down the hallway and stop in front of the door to Dean's room. Dean heads in while Cas remains on the threshold, hesitating.

Dean, who has already taken off his flannel and is starting on his Jeans, grins at him.

"Come on," he says, ignoring the little flicker of doubt in his head. He's always been better at actions than words, anyway. "Let's go to bed."

Cas comes in, then, strips his pants but keeps on the flannel ( _Dean's flannel!_ a voice in Dean's head helpfully supplies).

Then, they're in Dean's head, and Dean presses a kiss to Cas' lips and whispers, "Good night," and Cas smiles that soft smile of his again, and then Dean is asleep.

(Maybe he dreams, maybe he doesn't. He'll wake up with Cas next to him. Everything else feels insignificant in comparison.)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments, feedback, etc pay my rent ! (not really - but they do make my day.)


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